


An Inconvenience

by Loki_Laufeyson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Diabetes, Mycroft has a very bad relationship with food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Laufeyson/pseuds/Loki_Laufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fill for the prompt:</p>
<p>Mycroft is diabetic.</p>
<p>I think I'd like to see something realistic, so IDK Mycroft trying his best not to kill the mood on a date because he would like to avoid a night hypo... or excusing himself from a meeting... just... Mycroft dealing with it in a Mycroft way. Please?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Inconvenience

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/18842.html?thread=113375386#t113375386

"Really, Sherlock, must you be such a nuisance?" 

The nine year old turns to face his elder brother and sticks his tongue out like a petulant child- well, of course, that is exactly what he is- but thankfully he does not resume his brash inquisitiveness, picking up bottles of pills and jars of swabs with probing fingers, opting instead for jumping onto the trundle bed aside his reluctant company. His feet can't yet reach the floor like Mycroft, sixteen and considerably taller, beside him can so he lets his legs swing back and forth.

"Do you think you're dying?" Sherlock says in a stage whisper, his smile at the prospect of his brother's death somewhat malicious, certainly not comforting. 

Mycroft is tempted to say yes just to see how his little brother would react. It wouldn't be too much of a feat to make him believe the claim at this point; Mycroft- calm, collected, always in bloody control Mycroft- had lost over a stone in less than a month, fallen asleep at the dinner table three times in the past week ("Mycroft skipping a meal? That can't be good." Sherlock had said, brow creased in somewhere stuck between the usual contempt and the less so obligatory concern.) and, much to Sherlock's delight, had somehow managed to wet the bed. Mycroft is tempted to say yes but he doesn't, reluctant to discover if Sherlock's reaction would be joy. 

"No, Sherlock." Mycroft refutes calmly, he had had the good sense to research his symptoms, before Mummy became lucid enough to send him to a doctor, and he was fairly sure of the diagnosis. Certainly not a convenient one but hardly unmanageable. 

The family doctor comes in not long after Sherlock has settled by his side and confirms his suspicions. "Type 1 diabetes." she says (Mycroft knew this already). "Nothing to worry about." she says (Mycroft isn't worried). And then the doctor is talking about the pancreas and insulin and treatments but Mycroft isn't listening because he is otherwise occupied trying to prevent Sherlock from putting his hand into the medical waste disposal bin. 

\----

Mycroft takes it all very well. ("It's hardly life threatening anyway." Sherlock says to him and he adds with a snigger, "But with the way you eat it may well be." Mycroft just rolls his eyes but he sets down the chocolate éclair he's holding anyway. Just in case.)

Sherlock finds it all rather humorous. 

Especially how Mycroft has to watch what he eats now. His carbohydrate allowance has decreased significantly much to his ire. There really is nothing better than a fresh pastry or two after a day of watching all of his ordinary peers crawl back into the primordial soup ("A macaroon cannot bore you to death with insipid, normal conversation." is Mycroft's defence, who would sooner adopt Pierre Herme as his haunt than any bar or club). But now this greatest refuge has been taken from him and Mycroft finds himself at somewhat of a loss (it really isn't the end of the world but that custard slice seems to call to him from the fridge at night). Yes, Sherlock finds it a bit too amusing.

He has taken to sneering at Mycroft "How's the diet?", in an attempt to bait his brother but Sherlock never did quite seem to understand that not everyone is as easily goaded as him and Mycroft has taken to replying simply "Fine.". It really isn't _fine_ at times however. 

Mycroft prides himself on his control but there have always been two areas where this trait has been lacking; his brother and food. He would be the first to admit that he has a bad relationship with food (no, that's a lie, Sherlock would), he supposes it began when he was still in a cot, fingers and face sticky after being left alone with pots of sweet things whilst his mother slept off her medication, and yet he does nothing to reprimand himself when he feels his control slipping, when he sneaks into the garden with a raspberry tart (or two or three) and practically inhales the jam. 

Despite his mocking Sherlock seems to realise when things are not fine and in these moments of weakness he acts as a kind of pastry phantom, hiding and stealing food from his brother. Mycroft allows the misguided affection because, despite his sweet tooth, he would really rather not have a heart attack before he turns twenty. That can hardly be deemed responsible. 

("You're awfully good at stealing." Mycroft tells Sherlock one evening after yet another plate of apple crumble has vanished from his side. And then Sherlock is divulging his desires, that he has been practising because he wants to be a pirate. Mycroft tells him his career path will be somewhat limited but it doesn't sound unreasonable and they draw up a five year plan.)


End file.
